Twin Souls
by FalconHawk
Summary: A Pyromancer arrives at Firelink Shrine and meets a Wanderer who's close to going hollow. Together they embark on the quest to discover the fate of the undead. (Formatting fixed.)


_Hello everyone. I really thought I was done writing fan fiction, but this one won't stay out of my head, so I thought I've give it a shot. I'm going to be taking some liberties with the Dark Souls lore, so if that bothers you, just stop here. If not, please continue. A final note however, this will not be a retelling of the entire Dark Souls game, it's only going to be the parts that I find interesting. If you like it and want more, please leave a review, even if it's just a few words. Enjoy!_

Morgan landed on all fours as she was dropped by the giant crow. The bird flew a short distance away, where it landed on a crumbling, ruined wall, and below a nest of equally gigantic proportions. Morgan pushed herself to her feet and looked around to get her bearings.

It looked like she'd been dropped in the ruins of an ancient tower that had once stood beside a church. Only the ring that had marked the base of the tower remained, although the crumbling walls, and even pieces of the church roof remained. There was a bonfire similar to the ones she'd seen in the Undead Asylum to the north, although this fire burned considerably higher.

She only noticed the dark haired warrior because of the firelight glinting off his chainmail. He didn't so much as look up at her. Morgan didn't see the second figure until he shifted his head to get a better look at her. The second man wore an assortment of brown and green leathers, a small, round leather shield rested at his side, and a partizan lay across his lap. Any details about his face were hidden under his hood. He rested a hand on the haft of his spear, and Morgan tightened her grip on her axe, but after a moment, the seated man let go of his weapon, and Morgan likewise relaxed.

"Who are you?" She asked. "What is this place?"

"Undead." The leather covered man mumbled in a voice barely loud enough to hear. "We're all undead here." The man in chainmail chuckled in an eerie tone. The first undead man continued, "This is Firelink Shrine. And it's the closest thing we have to home."

"What do you mean by that?"

Both men chuckled unpleasantly. "You'll find out." The one in leathers answered. Even when he wasn't laughing, the man's voice was disturbing. It was raspy and cracking to the point that Morgan expected to see spiders crawling out of his mouth. "You…" As if to prove her correct, he paused long enough to cough and make several other wet-sounding throat noises. No spiders exited that Morgan could see. "The bird brought you. So you must have-" He coughed again. "Come for the fate of the undead?"

Morgan nodded.

The warrior in chainmail said, "You are not the first to come to this gods forsaken land for that exact purpose, and I doubt you will be the last. Hundreds, if not thousands have tried. Our friend here is the only one to ever return… Unsuccessfully, might I add." He laughed again.

Morgan looked to the leather-clad undead with new-found interest. "You know the way?"

He nodded once.

"Can you show me?"

He made a grunting noise but was otherwise silent for several moments and only stared into the bonfire's flames. "Sit down." He finally said. "Let the fire revive you… And I will consider."

Morgan hesitated. Both the warrior and the partizan-wielding undead seemed to be deeply disturbed, and if she sat down at the bonfire it would put her almost within reach of the partizan. On the other hand, the bonfire… ' _The bonfire!_ " The flames moved in a hypnotizing rhythm. The head beckoned her. ' _Is this some kind of trick? Is he a sorcerer?_ " The bonfire continued its dance, drawing Morgan towards it. " _What… am… What am I doing? Is… he…_ "

A hand landed roughly on Morgan's shoulder and she looked up, for the first time really seeing the partizan-holder's face. It looked like his eyes might have green but had clouded over to a dull grey with only the feintest hint of green still lingering. Likewise, his hair looked like it was supposed to be violet but had decayed to a mostly grimy looking brown.

' _What the…_ " Morgan thought. ' _When did I sit down? And how long have I been here?_ "

The undead standing over her didn't wait for her to break from her self-questions. "The first bell is in the Undead Parish, far above us. I can show you where it is. The second is far below us, in Blighttown. I've never been there, but I know how to get there."

Morgan didn't answer. The bonfire's dance was still muddling her mind. Her seemingly new companion didn't wait, and instead only turned and headed towards a descending staircase that Morgan hadn't seen until that moment.

"Come." He called without looking back. "We'll pay respects to the Firekeeper first, then begin." He reached the stairs and Morgan heard him laugh, it didn't sound any less eerie. "Fate of the undead." He said, as if it were the funniest thing he'd heard.

When Morgan descended the stairs as well, she found her guide kneeling in front of what looked like a prison cell that had been carved into the rock that Firelink Shrine rested on. As she came closer she saw that a blonde woman was in the cell. Morgan presumed this was the Firekeeper. She wondered if she should kneel as well, but settled for standing behind her guide. He stood up a few seconds later, and once more started walking away without a word.

"That was it?" Morgan asked as she caught up with him.

"Yes." He answered as he shifted his grip on his leather shield. "Firekeepers tend the fire. In a way, they are the fire. They also have no eyes… but they're not blind, our Firekeeper has no tongue as well. I think she muted herself." He coughed twice.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask her."

"Was that a joke?"

"Might have been."

As the two undead passed the chainmail covered warrior, he looked up and called, "What? Leaving again? Should I expect you to return once you have failed again?"

"Go hollow." The guide said without expression.

"Oh, if only… That would solve quite a bit!" The laugh that followed sent shivers through Morgan.

"What's his issue?" She asked.

"He's crestfallen."

"What does that mean?"

He stopped and turned to stare at Morgan. "How in Velka's name did you make it out of the Asylum?" He asked harshly, and without waiting for an answer he said, "There are two ways to go hollow. Die enough times until you lose the last shred of sanity; or, lose all hope. Our crestfallen warrior back there is in the latter category. He's tired of living, and now longs to be hollow." He started walking again before asking, "How do you not know this?"

"I was in the Asylum." Morgan answered defensively.

"For how long?"

"I don't know. The knights who brought me there said I was one of the first."

The guide almost dropped his spear but caught it again. "Fair enough." He said, his cracking voice showed his surprise. "What kept you from going hollow?"

Morgan answered just as they both started walking again. "I pyromancy, I suppose."

"Fair enough." He said again, and with a critical eye, examined her axe. "You will need a better weapon. That rusty lump of iron won't do you much good."

Morgan nodded.

"And given where you came from, and how long you were there, I'm assuming you have no estus flask."

"No." Morgan shook her head.

"Well, no matter." He answered as they reached another set of stairs leading to a tunnel that had been carved into the side of the mountain. "We're on the outskirts of Undead Burg, which is brimming with hollows." He coughed several times, and when he spoke again, his voice didn't sound as cracked as it previously had. "Many of them carry estus flasks, and at least one of them is bound to have a passable weapon."

As the two reached the top of the stairs, Morgan saw five hollows begin to shamble towards them. She saw one of them with a supply of fire bombs, another wore a suit of armor and was the only one to carry a shield. The hollows increased their speed, and those that were able started to run. Her companion hooked his shield on his back and held his partizan with two hands.

"You take the left!" He ordered. "Try to stay out of my spear's reach." He exhaled in a ragged breath and lunged forward, impaling the first hollow through the chest. He pulled it closer, only to kick the limp body off his weapon.

Morgan sidestepped out of the way of a battleaxe, and then swung her own axe into the hollow's neck. Her axe was so dull that it didn't decapitate the hollow, and stopped when it connected with bone. Before she could attack again, the armored hollow appeared and hacked into her shoulder. As the hollow prepared for another swing, Morgan's companion leapt in behind it and thrust his partizan through its skull, the tip of the weapon exiting its mouth. Without hesitation, he whirled around and sliced a firebomb in half, saving himself and Morgan from a fiery fate. Morgan raised her arm that was still usable and a fireball formed there, she hurled it towards the hollow who was in the process of throwing another firebomb. The fireball exploded on impact, and ignited the bomb that the hollow was holding. It flailed in silent horror for a few seconds, before falling dead.

Morgan looked around. All five hollows were unmoving on the ground. Her companion had moved so fast that he'd killed three hollows in the time that it had taken her to swing her axe twice. Whatever else he might have been, he was a master with the spear.

The guide rolled the armored hollow over onto its back and started rooting through the pouches and pockets. He made a satisfied grunting noise when he found an emerald flask and passed it to Morgan. "Drink that." He rasped.

"What is it?" Morgan looked questioningly at the bottle and its contents.

"Bonfire in a bottle." He answered. "Just take a swallow. With the way you fight, you'll need the rest soon…" He coughed several times. "Enough." He finished.

"Morgan scowled, but said nothing. He was right after-all. The hollows could barely move, but if it weren't for her companion, she would be dead… ' _Or at least dead again._ " She silently remarked as she lifted the flask to her lips and drew a swallow. Images of the bonfire's dancing flames were conjured in her mind, but this time there was no hypnotic effect. As Morgan looked down at her arms, she was surprised to see flames rising from her appendages. At first she hadn't even noticed that the estus had healed her ruined arm, the pain had stopped, but there had been no sensation of healing.

"Stop day-dreaming." Her companion ordered. "It's just estus…" He glanced at a hollow that was already returning to life and struggling to its feet. He started walking towards it and finished with, "Not the First Flame." He drove his weapon through the hollow's eye and savagely twisted. "Try coming back from that!" He mumbled. Turning back to Morgan he said, "Take that hollow's sword and shield, they're better than that… _thing_ … you have."

"What is your name?" Morgan asked as she did as instructed.

He shrugged. "I don't remember. You can call me Wanderer if you want."

"How can you not remember your own name?"

The Wanderer started walking up stairs towards the tunnel again. "Three deaths ago… I think." He didn't speak for several more steps. "When I woke up, I couldn't remember my name. I'm pretty sure there are other gaping holes in my memory, but obviously I don't know about them."

"How many times have you died?" Morgan asked with concern, both for the Wanderer and herself.

He stopped walking again and turned to face her. "I stopped counting after ten." He must have ready the look on her face because he said, "Before you ask, I'm close to hollow. But there's no need to worry. At least not yet. I'm not that close to hollow."


End file.
